Paper Cranes
by lollipopstick
Summary: He needs a bride. She finds one for him. Looking for the right girl for someone who you hardly know isn't as easy as it seems. Especially when that someone isn't exactly human.


**Disclaimer**: FF9? Not mine.

**Written by**: The _**amazingly talented** _lollip0pstick

_One folktale. Two paper cranes. Three strings. Zidane needs a bride. Garnet needs the job. _

* * *

**Summary:** A story about paper cranes with a dose of murder, jealousy, dark pasts, romance and humor. Basically the story revolves around a cold, aloof young man, Zidane Tribal who is in need of a bride. Here steps in Ms. Garnet Alexandros who ends up with a job as Zidane's official bride-hunter.

**New fanfic! Yes. I have another story going on but really its not particularly popular and good so tadaah, came up with a new one. I just couldn't stop myself. Don't think I should blabber on, as most readers don't even bother to read this section of the story. I noe I dun Well go on, read the damn story.**

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_**Paper Cranes**_

Chapter 1: **Mr.Popochi the chicken**

* * *

"_Do you know what a paper crane symbolises?"_

"_Hmm."_

"_It symbolises life."_

"_Uh-huh..."_

"_You tie it to a tree and if it stays there that means your crane is flying."_

"_Hnn."_

"_But if it drops…Zidaneeeee! Stop reading that book while I'm talking to you!"_

"_Huh? Hey, hey! Give it back!"_

* * *

"Don't you think that was a tad bit too harsh?" inquired the 23-year-old redhead as he glanced at the weeping girl whom they just had their lunch with a few minutes ago. Okay-okay. So, the girl wasn't weeping. She was bawling, howling, wailing. Yep. Complete with the wild flailing arms, incoherent blabbering, and of course the occasional shrieking, which consisted of, words like, "Bastard!" "Asshole!" and "Jackass!"

Blank didn't blame the girl for reacting in such a crazed manner. In fact, he actually pitied the girl. Zidane was after all known for his harsh words and ice-cold exterior. 'Frosty the Snowman' was the childhood name Blank had christened him with. But now, he realized that the name only resulted to a few bruises, a swollen eye and once, a fractured arm.

The blonde shrugged.

"She was annoying me."

The girl's cries grew louder. Zidane happily sipped his favourite Starbucks drink, ignoring his disgruntled companion's glare.

"Can you at least have the decency to keep your voice down?"

"Nah. Too troublesome."

The girl's cries raised a notch higher and Blank wondered why the glass hasn't shattered yet.

Blank tugged the collar of his black polo shirt, feeling rather guilty. Wait just a bloody minute! It wasn't even his fault and he was feeling guilty! **Guilty**! **Him**! This is **so** wrong! He wasn't supposed to feel guilty! That asshole who is currently sitting in front of him eating his doughnut as though he just did nothing wrong is supposed to be the guilty one! Why? Why! **Why**! Why was he a victim of Zidane's severity!

"Blank. You should stop tugging that shirt of yours. A button just popped out."

Blank narrowed his eyes

_Bastard._

"Don't you think we should leave?" questioned the distressed boy as he swiftly ducked under the table to avoid a flying Kleenex that was coming his way.

Leaning back against the elegantly carved oak chair, Zidane gazed idly at the crowd of people who were running to entrance, trying to escape from the lethal rain of tissues. Wet and soggy tissues.

"And we should leave because…?"

All this happened because of him, Zidane Tribal. Mr Tribal. Ziddy-boy. Zidane. The-hot-blonde. Frosty the sno- No. **Not** Frosty the snowman.

Who's the **man**?

He is.

Who's **the** man?

**He** is.

Nice job, Zidane.

Nice job.

And all was fine and dandy. But that was before something hits the blonde.

Literary. Right in the face.

It was a shiny apple. A shiny purple apple. ……Apple? Purple? Oh. It wasn't an apple. It's a grape! It looked so delicious. And juicy. Yea. Juicy. Like oranges! And—No. Stop. He really had to stop drifting off like this.

What was going to do?

Well……he wanted to scream his head off! Yell at the moronic carrot-head! Wring his finger around the asshole's neck and strangle him to death!

……Alas, he had a reputation to keep.

"What was **that** for, Blaa-ank?"

A brilliant mop of crimson emerged from under the table. Blank didn't reply. Instead, he just kept on staring. At him. No. Blank wasn't staring at him. What **was** he staring at?

Another ball of grape plummeted down to his head. So, it wasn't Blank who hit him.

Zidane smiled. He loved grapes. Grapes rocked his world. Is that true? Oh, yes it is true. So true. Truer than truerer. Was truerer even a word? Hmm…He'll look that up in the dictionary later.

……He was drifting off again wasn't he?

The blonde tilted his head upwards.

His azure hues met its clone.

"You dumped her didn't you?" questioned the guy as he raked his pale fingers through his silvery hair. In his free hand, he cradled a bunch of grapes.

Zidane frowned.

_Damn it all. _

* * *

"Popochi-popochi-popochi-popochhiii!" Her watch screamed over and over and over again.

The brunette's toffee hues widened as she glanced at the computerized chickens flying about in face of her watch.

"I'M LAAAAATTEEEE! I'm **late**! I'M LATE! It's **11.30**! ELEVEN THRITY!"

The raven-haired boy paid no heed to the hysterical girl who has hopping round the house on foot as she struggled to put on her shoes.

"It's not eleven-thirty," he chirped merrily and continued to sip his herbal tea.

The girl stopped dead in her tracks. Mouth wide-open, eyes bugged out, a cup of ice-blended cappuccino clutched in her right hand and her left knee raised with her faded red sneakers hanging limply at the edge of her toes.

He took yet another sip and pointed towards the clock which hung on the beige wall, with his head bobbing up and down as he hummed an annoyingly chirpy song that he conveniently memorized while he was watching his favourite sitcom _Popochi the Chicken_.

Garnet diverted her gaze away from the bizarre lad. The hands of the clock with the wings of a chicken attached to it moved torpidly past the numbers which was each drawn inside a comical image of a cracked egg. Finally, finally, _finally_, the hand reached its destination. A shrill tune resounded through the halls of her apartment.

_12 o'clock. _

Ornate hues of crimson, not unlike the lethal flames of a fatal fire danced in her eyes and her ominous glare was only directed to one person, her sweet roommate who adored herbal teas, her dear companion who was fascinated by the likes of _Popochi the Chicken_ and that person was none other than William Gregory. Grabbing her favourite pink slipper with the little bunny ears, she arched her arm backwards and flung it at the surprised Will.

A toothy grin replaced his shock expression as he watch the slipper plummet to the wooden tiles with a soft thud, landing a far stretch away from its target.

"Ha!"

The girl pouted, "Oh, shut it, Will."

"Was it my fault that you intentionally starve poor Popochi?"

"It was squeaking!"

"Indeed it was."

"And so, I thought that Poconi wanted medicine so I clicked on that little icon with the crossbones-"

"- No! Tell me you didn't! And it's _Popochi_, sweetie."

"Urmh…I didn't?"

"Oh no! No, no, _no_! That button was to _kill_ Popochi-sama!"

"W-what! B-but why would they have a button that kills Pokoki!"

"Why _wouldn't_ they have a button that kills Master Popochi?"

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Indeed you are. But, it is not I, or you, or he, or she, or they, or them-"

**Blink.**

"-Or me, you should apologize to. You, Garnet should be apologizing to Popochi-sama!… And perhaps one day he shall forgive you. Now you just have to remember not to neglect it," explained the boy as he tapped onto the surface of her bright yellow watch. "Each time you do, Popochi would purposely slow down the time you set in your watch and this in turn would make you late fo-"

Just as the words escaped his lips, a whirl of dust whizzed past him and all that was left behind were stray pieces of papers flying about. Will glanced at his favourite clock.

_12:18 pm_

Clapping his hands together, he gulped down the last bits of his jasmine green tea and scrambled to the pale brown sofa. He hurriedly clicked on the circular button on the remote control and waited eagerly for the television to come to live.

The screen flickered once, twice and then he came face to face with a recognizable chicken that was waggling its butt at the TV screen. A familiar tune was being played as the credits rolled by. There was a dead, eerie silence. Unfortunately, this rare moment of peace was soon followed by a series of mournful howls.

It was a sad, sad day. For the first time ever, Mr. William Gregory had missed an episode of Popochi the Chicken.

* * *

A bead of sweat ran down his cheek and he scratched his head and sighed aloud.

_Giggle._

Piercing cerulean orbs were narrowed to slits as a vein throbbed repeatedly at a rather alarming rate.

_Squeal._

A conceited smirk graced his lips as he flipped his strands of glossy sliver away from his face and waved to them in one fluid motion.

_Faint._

The three guys were not oblivious to the fact that mobs of fan girls were stalking them. Some were hiding behind bushes, some were tittering about with their faces hidden behind newspapers with two big convenient eyeholes cut out from it and then there were those who kept jumping from one lamppost to another going 'Oooh' 'Aaah' at every single thing they did.

However, this time the girls didn't squeal 'Oooh', neither did they go 'Aaah'. Instead, they went-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

**Blop.**

Thud.

_Drip._

Drip.

**_Drip._**

An evidently annoyed blonde wiped away lumps of the half-melted iced drink from his eyes and threw the plastic container, which was perched on his head onto the floor. A throng of fans came running to their side, trying to clean the unsightly patches of brown liquid on their shirts.

All eyes were focused on one girl—a rather petite brunette who was clad in a simple lilac blouse and a black plaited denim skirt with a cute lavender ribbon in her hair. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and her pearly whites bit the lower side of her lips. Zidane folded his arms and held his head up high in a superior manner making Garnet feel smaller than ever. Blank flashed her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm **awfully** sorry! I was in a hurry-"

"- Oh _really_? I couldn't tell," Zidane retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She flushed an even darker shade of red.

"I'm late for this _really_ important job interview and-"

"Ah," The lad stroke his chin nonchalantly, "financially deprived?"

"H-huh? What! Yes! No! I mean it's…it's personal!"

He arched a fine brow. "Sure it is…"

The girl shut her mouth instantly; not wanting to be humiliated any further. With an awkward bow and a barely audible apology, Garnet sped off with amazing velocity leaving passer-bys to stare wide-eyed at her retreating figure.

Kuja nodded his head in approval.

"Now, _that_ was cool."

* * *

**Big.**

That was certainly one way to describe the majestic building that stood before her very eyes. Garnet stood on the wide porch and gazed adoringly at the vast gardens. Beyond the beautifully etched fountain, which was situated in the middle of the yard, stood the tall metal gates that Garnet had just passed.

She looked liked an oddball in this regal place with her shirt crumpled and her hair in a frizzy mess.

Garnet tucked away the stray strands of her hair behind her ears. Her hand reached out to ring the doorbell when the brass doorknob suddenly turned and the big wooden oak door was swung open. Moving hastily out of the way, Garnet watched as an enraged young woman who was about her age dragged a lad out of the house and onto the porch.

"How dare you!"

The man twiddled his fingers forming a heart, followed by a triangle.

"How could you?"

Then, it turned into a butterfly.

"H-how," she caught sight of his now hopping bunny, **"Marcus**! Are you even listening to me?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly!"

"Then, the answer is 'No'."

Her greyish-white tresses fell from her bun as she shook her fist furiously at the man named Marcus.

"Why y-you! That coconut cake was meant for Zidane's," pausing for a moment, she lowered her tone and continued, "_girlfriend _who'll visit us today!"

"Hah. Good thing the cake was eaten. That day will _never_ come."

"Aha! So you did know that there was a cake!"

He stretched his arms and sighed.

"Oh, come on, Ruby. I don't even like coconut."

Ruby frowned. Her olive orbs flickered and she snapped her fingers, smirking.

"Cinna."

She swivelled to her right and only then did she notice the brunette who stood rooted to the ground.

Garnet gulped down the uneasy lump in her throat and forced a smile.

"Hi?"

The moment of silence although it may have only lasted for one minute felt like an eternity to Garnet. Suddenly, Ruby's sneer blossomed into a wide cheek-to-cheek beaming smile.

"Waiiii! You must be Ziddy's girlfriend! My, aren't you an adorable one. Well, come on in! Come in!" squealed the jade-eyed woman with delight as she practically hauled her into the mansion despite Garnet's profuse protests.

* * *

The poor brunette nearly fainted when they entered the gigantically enormous living room. A golden chandelier was hung on the ceiling amongst the breathtakingly beautiful murals. It was furnished with priceless antique furniture, some so frail looking that Garnet didn't even dare to take another step forward. However that problem was easily resolved with the help of Ruby's constant shoving.

Up the stairs, through various rooms each as grandiose as the next and along the wide corridors. Ruby toured her about the mansion, stopping at certain places and talking non-stop, giving Garnet no chance to explain her situation.

_BRRRRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNGGG!_

Garnet stopped dead in her tracks. Fire? She bit her lip and frowned. She didn't like fires.

Ruby, on the other hand, was absolutely elated. Clapping her palms together, she twirled about and pranced down the stairs singing, "**Coooookieeees**! My cookies are done!" Moments later, her head popped out from behind the wall, eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't. Move. An inch."

The toffee-eyed girl sighed and started to pace down the corridor. Her eyes trailed down the picturesque paintings, one after another. Suddenly, she bumped into a huge two-way door. The door painted with a tint of white hue had intricate carvings etched on the wooden panels. A simply made paper crane was hung on each of the crystal-like doorknob.

Her hands were tingling with curiosity. She bent down and reached out to turn the doorknob…

* * *

"Get the hell away from there!"

He stormed towards the girl and within a few heartbeats he was next to her, pushing her away from the door. He growled in her face, his eyes dangerously flashing in anger. He could feel fury pulsing through his veins, the fast swirls of cobalt blue and azure whirling in his eyes, frustration churning--

"Zidane, you idiot! Calm yourself down!" barked a familiar figure as he came running towards them.

Hands still clenched by his sides, he clamped his eyes shut, and banged his fist into the wall, muttering a sting of curses under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, that treacherous glint was gone only to be replaced by a cold emotionless sea of cerulean.

"Hoy," he shifted his gaze from the wall to the girl whom Blank was helping up,

" You alright?"

Before she could even murmur her reply, a deafening holler boomed across the corridor.

"It's you!"

There standing at the entrance of the corridor was a tall silver-haired man, left arm raised, pointing at Garnet with an oh-so-happy smile on his face. The other two lads turned to face her.

"It's you!" Blank yelled gleefully.

"**_You_**," glowered Zidane, clenching his fists once again.

* * *

**_TBC_**


End file.
